


How Does Your Garden Grow?

by genee



Series: Neon [3]
Category: Bandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossdressing, Dr. K., M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-16
Updated: 2008-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-17 22:11:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/181760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genee/pseuds/genee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>'He refused medical,' Ray says, and Gerard looks over his shoulder, nods his head, reminds himself Ray's one of the good guys.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	How Does Your Garden Grow?

"He refused medical," Ray says, and Gerard looks over his shoulder, nods his head, reminds himself Ray's one of the good guys. Some piece of shit motherfucker smashed his fist into Frankie's face, tore her dress, left his goddamn stink all over her in the goddamn bar where she works, and Gerard's thinking about whether or not he can correct Ray's pronouns without fucking himself up here, because Gerard's a piece of shit motherfucker, too.

Gerard's shrink in the city says he knows Gerard can't always tell the difference, but self-preservation and self-loathing aren't actually the same thing, and Gerard scrubs a hand across his face, tries hard to believe.

"Had your card in his wallet," Ray says, and Gerard blinks, nods some more. "That one case, right? Yeah. Did I tell you my mom saw you on TV?"

Behind him Frankie's charming the shit out of Ray's partner, "Not a goddamn _Special Victim_ , asshole. Just let me fucking _go_. You fuckers never fuckin' do anything, anyway, hey, _Detective Way_ ," and Gerard turns around, his palms in the air. Ray's partner rolls his eyes, fucking rookie, and leaves Frankie where she is for a minute, Polaroid's laid out on the hood of the car, her mouth, her dress, the bruise between her shoulder blades, her swollen knuckles. Gerard takes his jacket off, hands it to the kid, Smith, sends him back to Frankie.

"Bouncer called it in, plenty of witnesses, no ID," Ray says, and Gerard thinks about his badge, his gun, how much he'd like to find the shitbag who did this and fucking forget he has either one. Ray tucks his notepad into his pocket, crosses his arms over his chest, looks at Gerard. "How's it going at Major Case?"

Gerard thinks about how long he's known Ray, thinks about how Mikey still walks into burning buildings even though he doesn't have to, thinks about the last time he saw Frankie, a week ago, maybe two, morning light in her hair, on her skin, her fingers twisted in his sheets. All he wants to do now is protect her, hold her close, keep her safe. Not that she'll let him. Gerard gathers his courage, says, "Thanks for calling, man. Frankie, she's, _fuck_. I'll take it from here."

"Don't do something stupid on this, Gee." Ray's voice is careful, serious, and Gerard shoves his hands in his pockets, bites the inside of his cheek. "You bring her in to look at pictures tomorrow, I'll stick close, okay? We get an ID, I promise you, I'll make it stick."

"You're a good guy, Toro."

"Yeah, okay," Ray says, blushing a little, and then he looks over Gerard's shoulder, calls out, "We're gonna roll," and Smith looks up, relieved.

Frankie climbs into Gerard's car then, his jacket around her shoulders. She turns up the radio and cranks the heat, and Gerard stands in the alley, Chris's card in his pocket, thinks about planting seeds.

 

\-- End --


End file.
